The Greatest of Them All
by immie8
Summary: Future fic: "D'Artagnan has it in him to be a fine musketeer, perhaps the greatest of us all." Athos' words have proved true, but d'Artagnan is not entirely sure whether he's comfortable with it.


Disclaimer and notes: I don't own any of it, but to those who do please hurry up with a premiere date! Quotes were once again featured in Criminal Minds. After my last fic I was definitely in the mood for something lighter and fluffier, with a healthy dose of brotherly bonding. And, yes, the quote at the end is reversed, but it just fit the story better that way. Unbeta'd – so any mistakes are mine. Also, kudos to anyone who can spot the quote from another favourite show of mine!

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**The Greatest of Them All**

_The greatest good you can do for another is not to share your own riches, but to reveal to him his own. – __**Benjamin Disraeli**_

_The bond that links you to your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other's life. __**– Richard Bach **_

Treville's death had come as a shock to all. Though the graying hair and deepening lines on his face had hinted at his growing years, in all other aspects he seemed a model of health. Still fit with as much vim and vigor as any of the new, young recruits; his mind still sharp as ever. They all, however, could be grateful at the peaceful manner of his death, passing quietly in his sleep – a luxury afforded to very few soldiers, but one that their captain had well earned. The king had declared a day of mourning and the grand funeral showed just how highly the king regarded the late captain of his guards.

When the day came an entire regiment of stone-faced men could be seen and though nary a tear was shed their grief was unmistakable. It hung thick in the air as the men said their final goodbyes to the man who was for many the only captain that they'd ever known. So it would have come as a surprise to most the speed at which discussions around who would next be named captain began. But they were soldiers and practicality would always take precedent over sentiment. In d'Artagnan's mind there was only one choice and he'd already had discussions with both Aramis and Porthos on how the three would ensure that Athos would accept the position when offered to him. So he was as shocked as anyone when the king announced that there were far too many worthy candidates for him to choose one. Instead a contest of skill would determine who the next leader of his guard would be.

The day came all too soon and d'Artagnan shifted nervously as the rules were announced and the formalities dispatched with. In truth he had not been planning on participating in the match for although he was no longer a green recruit there were still many others who had far more seniority and were far worthier candidates in his opinion. It was only with Athos' encouragement that he'd entered himself and as he glanced over at his mentor, the small, encouraging smile he gave helped to put d'Artagnan at ease. There were no expectations and, hence, no pressure; he was here for the experience.

At the king's word the tournament begins and d'Artagnan is surprised at how well he does. So well, in fact, that he finds himself in the final and across from him stands the man who has been both father and brother to him. And as they stand shoulder-to-shoulder, waiting to enter the ring, d'Artagnan feels the nervousness return and can't help but glance over at his friend and future opponent. Athos does not look back, and d'Artagnan's anxiety grows, but as they are called onto the field he hears a murmur.

"I expect your best," declares Athos, quietly. And with that, d'Artagnan feels all of his nerves melt away – replaced with a determination to make his mentor proud. The king wishes his final two competitors luck and the match begins. Athos has demanded his best and he gets it. The two are near evenly matched: their years together giving each an intimate knowledge of the other's style, strengths and weaknesses. The battle stretches on, and soon each man is running on near pure adrenaline. Then, suddenly, it's over. D'Artagnan stands still in shock – he's won. He's almost afraid to look over, but when he does he's relieved (if not a little surprised) to see warm eyes and a proud, almost indulgent smile on Athos' face. Faintly he can hear the king declare him the winner and somehow he remembers to bow. Soon, his brothers file onto the field to congratulate him, with Athos being the first to offer his hand.

The rest of the day passes like a blur and when d'Artagnan next blinks, he's at the palace being measured for a new uniform. As the tailor does his work, d'Artagnan begins to think on how this could possibly have happened when it dawns on him. Instantly his mood darkens and when the tailor is finally done, he marches straight to the tavern where he knows his friends will be waiting. He quickly spots Athos and marches straight over.

"You let me win," scowled d'Artagnan, "Why? I mean I know that you weren't completely enamored with the idea of being captain, but how could you? I'm going to tell the king tomorrow that there's been a mistake and that it should be you in that office." D'Artagnan's tone is firm, but a glance at his brother and the look on his face – a mixture of amusement, exasperation, with just a touch of surprise causes d'Artagnan to pause. "You did let me win, didn't you?" He repeats again unable to keep the note of question from his voice. A raised eyebrow is the only response and d'Artagnan once again feels shock settle in as the truth dawns on him. "But it can't be…that would mean…" D'Artagnan sinks down into the chair, looking almost helplessly at his friend and mentor.

"Is it truly so hard for you to believe?" asks Athos, unable to keep a note of amusement from his voice. He lets out a small sigh as he looks at his brother and new leader and sees the shadow of yesteryears – a boy seeking guidance, still uncertain of his place in the world. "I always knew this day would come." Whatever else might have been said is interrupted by the entrance of their other halves.

"Well, look who it is," declares Aramis with a flourish, "the man of the hour. So, _**captain**_, what do you say about a small raise in pay?" He smiles a cheeky smile before realizing the rather understated mood. "What's going on?"

"D'Artagnan here is convinced that I let him win," replies Athos casually, pleased with the flush that instantly fills his former protégé's face.

Aramis' eyes widen, but it is Porthos breaks the silence. "Yer joking, right?" exclaims the man in his usual booming manner. He shakes his head as d'Artagnan's only response is to turn an even deeper shade of crimson.

"And just how exactly did you come to that conclusion?" inquires Aramis, unable to keep the bemused grin from his face.

"I guess I just…," stammered d'Artagnan, "Urgh, what have I gotten myself into?"

"Long hours sitting behind a desk doing paperwork, endless meetings and politics," supplies Aramis with a shrug and a cheeky smirk. He earns a glare from Athos, but even he cannot completely hide his amusement at the situation.

"This had to be the stupidest way to decide the captaincy," declares d'Artagnan, rubbing his hand over his face. "I mean with a little luck, even the worst candidate might have won."

"But that's not what happened," states Athos firmly.

"Are you sure of that?"

"You're giving yourself too little credit. You're an excellent swordsman, soldier and have more experience in the field than most – and you have a good head on your shoulders…when you choose to use it," replies Athos, placing a hand on d'Artagnan shoulder; head bowed towards him until their foreheads are almost touching.

"Thank you, I appreciate that. But any of you would have been a better choice. I mean, I doubt I will ever be half the tactician you are; or the philosopher you are; or know half as much about the world has you do," declares d'Artagnan, breaking away to look at Aramis and Porthos respectively. And d'Artagnan feels his eyes moisten as their only response is to smile twin warm, proud smiles at him.

"Again you give yourself too little credit. You're ready for this. And if you don't trust yourself then trust me," states Athos firmly. "And if you need anything we will always be here – you need only ask."

"Thank you," replied d'Artagnan gratefully. "Though I suppose now that I'll be able to take your advice under advisement." He continues, a cheeky grin spreading across his own face.

"Now there's the impertinent little Gascon that we all know and love," declares Aramis with a grin, his voice warm with affection. The four men pause as the serving girl arrives with four glasses and a bottle of wine.

"To Jean-Armand du Peyrer de Treville," declares d'Artagnan, raising his glass.

"Treville," echo the others, following suit.

"And to our new captain, Charles d'Artagnan – may God grant him strength, longevity and the wisdom to know when to listen to peers," toasts Aramis with a cheeky grin, raising his eyebrows in their new leader's direction. His amusement only grows as d'Artagnan rewards his toast with an eye-roll and a fond, if not slightly exasperated grin of his own. As he looked around, d'Artagnan feels his chest swell with love and affection for the three men around him: his brothers in arms, blood, in everything save birth.

"United we stand, divided we fall," declares d'Artagnan, raising his glass and locking eyes with each man as he did so. He feels a ghost of a smile on his lips as, in near unison, each of his brothers followed suit; for each man knew that his toast was more than just the words of their troop – that they were a truth to be lived by. Their years of experience had taught many things, but the most important amongst them was that alone they could only find trouble, but together they could overcome any evil. "All for one."

"And one for all," chime the four in unison, glasses connecting as they celebrated a life well lived and a brotherhood that would endure throughout the ages.


End file.
